The Warlock's Calling
by AncientzDream
Summary: When his 5th year at Hogwarts ends in yet another tragedy and his summer begins with more changes than he could ever have anticipated, Harry is soon forced to accept that ‘normal’ is something he and his life will never be. SlashAUPowerful!Warrior!Harry
1. Questions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything about the Potterverse. That all belongs to J.K.R. No copyright infringement is intended.

**AN:** The original idea and inspiration for this story - Harry Potter and The Warlock's Calling - was written by Shadowface, who was kind enough to give me permission to take the idea and run with it. I hope you all enjoy my version.

_Letters, Etc._

**Thoughts, Mindspeak**

//Parseltongue//

**_July 5th, Number Four Privet Drive_**

Tossing and turning fitfully as sleep evaded him for the third night in a row, Harry snarled out a quiet but frustrated sound and sat up abruptly. Turning darkly shadowed, hollow seeming green eyes towards the dim red glow of his digital clock, the teen sighed and shook his head. He didn't feel like putting his glasses on and finding out how late - or in this case, how early - it was.

"What is wrong with me?" he whispered. Rubbing at his dry, tired eyes, he shook his head again, but this time in an attempt to clear it of exhausted dizziness. Despite the horrifying imagery and painful memories that haunted his dreams and nightmares, some sleep had to be better than none at all. "Why can't I sleep at all, even for just a few hours?"

As if in answer to his query, a sense of powerful urgency rose up within him and he shifted nervously, one hand rising to rub at his scar. When all too familiar pain failed to explode through his body, he paid more attention to what he _was_ feeling.

**Feels like I need to do something, but _what, _for Merlin's sake?! **Rubbing his hands together to keep them busy, he made a low sound in the back of his throat and fidgeted even more as the sense of urgency intensified. **I guess this is it...I'm finally going crazy...**

Unaware of any intent to move until he was already doing so, Harry was on the floor fishing his wand out from under the loose floorboard beneath his bed before he could question why he wanted it. Sliding back into bed, wand firmly grasped in his right hand, he felt some of the tension ease, but now his left hand ached on the edge of pain, as if it, too, wanted a wand to fill it.

**Hurts,** he whispered in his own mind and wrapped both hands around his Holly wand in an effort to ease that dull, throbbing ache. With the slight easing of his discomfort came a thought so direct and certain that he doubted it was his own for a moment.

**My time in this muggle place is done. It is time to leave.**

A deep calm followed on the heels of that thought and he relaxed against his thin mattress with a soft sigh. The exhausted teen fell into the first dreamless sleep he'd had without the aid of potions in over a year.

Waking slowly, Harry stretched and sighed, green eyes blinking rapidly against the late morning brightness. His restful peace was interrupted by a vivid recollection of the strange epiphany that had come to him during the night; seeing that his wand was still clutched in both hands drove the point home and re-kindled the urgent need that had driven him to his decision to leave his relative's home.

**I'm really going to leave?** He wondered if this was another trick, another false thought planted in his mind by Voldemort, but he couldn't get the curious drive to go away anymore than he could find any source beyond himself. **I'll go to the Leaky Cauldron for a few days. What can it hurt? It is time to leave.**

"It's time to leave," he declared aloud, startling himself and Hedwig, who hooted at him inquisitively. Rising abruptly, wand still in hand since it still almost hurt to not at least have it in one hand, Harry began carefully packing what little he had bothered to unpack. Cleaning out the owl's cage, he crooned softly to her and stroked the soft feathers atop her head.

"I'm leaving here, girl, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do or where I'll be, but you can always find me, can't you?"

Head bobbing, Hedwig shifted from one clawed talon to the other and hooted sharply as if to tell him in no uncertain terms that she'd find him in hell if that was where he decided to go.

"That's my girl, Hedwig," he praised the snowy owl and made sure the window was open far enough for her to get out easily. Taking a deep bracing breath, Harry tucked his wand in his back pocket and went downstairs to brave his family for the day until his Uncle returned home from work.

Vernon opened the front door and went through his usual routine of putting away his coat and briefcase before turning and seeing a sight that brought his blood to a boil. There, sitting on _his _living room couch was that good for nothing freak of a boy.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, lazing around, boy? There must be something useful you could be doing..."

"Actually, you and I need to talk, Vernon." Harry looked up at the much larger man and resisted the urge to shrink back from him as his face started to go purple. It helped that he had his wand in hand - that little bit of intimidation couldn't hurt his chances. "It might be a good idea to hear what I have to say before you lose your temper."

Petunia cleared her throat, drawing the lumbering man's attention in her direction. Nodding, she shrugged minutely. Harry had already had this conversation with her and she was all for getting him out of their hair as quickly as possible. If that meant shutting her husband up for the time being, then she would do what she had to do.

"If he's telling the truth, then I'd like for you to hear him out, Vernon. Please?"

Frowning, Vernon studied his wife before returning his attention to Harry. The presence of the stick the boy called a wand wasn't lost on him and he immediately wondered if a spell had been cast on his Petunia.

"Did you cast a spell on your Aunt, freak?" he demanded, face purpling as rapidly as it had begun to fade.

"No, Uncle Vernon. I haven't done anything you would consider freakish or abnormal. I know you don't want me here and I'm not sure that you ever did," Harry began. "I don't know all of the circumstances that led to you taking me in, but I'm guessing that you were afraid not to for some reason." He sighed and let his urgent need to get away from this sterile, mundane little home help him say the words. "I need to go...I need to leave. If you would be willing to take me into London and drop me off at an Inn run by my kind so I can stay there, I won't bother you ever again and I will send the letter every three days so the rest of my people don't come around to bother you."

"You won't ever come back? Not ever?" Vernon could suddenly see why Petunia had tried to get him to listen to the freak. This was almost better than Christmas. "All I have to do is take you to some freak place in London?"

"That's right. We'll never have to deal with each other again if I have anything to say about it, and all you have to do is take me to London. It's not hard to get to." Harry forced himself to breathe despite how much this clear and obvious show of indifference towards him and his feelings hurt. He had known they stopped caring for him once they found out he was different, but now he knew they never had. "Will you do it?"

"I'll take you to the rest of the freaks, boy. Get your things so we can be done with it. I'll be taking Petunia and Dudders out to dinner to celebrate once we've dropped you off." Vernon made a shooing motion at the small teen and practically rubbed his hands together in his eagerness to be rid of the freakish child. "Do you hear that, Dudders? You'll be getting your second room back."

On the evening of July fifth, it rained. The streets were oddly empty of other traffic except for one car slowly making its way down the row of shops and boutiques. Vernon turned and glared at the backseat's occupant.

"Are you sure it's this way, boy?"

Harry nodded and pointed, "Its right there."

Vernon looked around and saw nothing he would consider to be out of the ordinary. "Are you sure? I don't see any old Inn...just a few shops."

Again the teen just nodded and said, "It's here, trust me. You can just drop me off. I'll send the letters every three days so that they don't bother you."

"See that you do" was the large man's terse reply. The car stopped and the trunk popped open. "Hurry up and don't get the trunk wet."

Harry left the car, closing the door behind him. He went to the back of the car and removed his things. He set them down on the sidewalk next to the car and went back to the door. "This is goodbye forever." He nodded at the car's other occupants, grabbed the cage from the middle seat and closed the door, this time locking it. He was finally free.

Some one knocking on the door startled Tom, the innkeeper, from his nap. He jumped up from his seat by the fire and opened the door; a very wet, smiling young man was standing there, trunk and owl cage in hand.

"Hello," Harry said. "Do you have an extra room, Tom?"

"Why, Mr. Potter, what a surprise! Get in out of the rain, young man. You haven't run into any trouble have you?" The Inn Keeper couldn't help but worry about the young saviour of the wizarding world. He always seemed so loaded down with worries and this night appeared to be no different.

"No trouble this time, Tom," Harry replied as he stepped in out of the rain and relaxed into the welcoming atmosphere that was the Leaky Cauldron. "I just need to take care of a few things in town, so I had my relatives drop me off here so I could get a room. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself though. The fewer people who know I'm here, the less likely it will be that trouble finds me."

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Let's get you up to your room. Would you be wanting something to eat and some tea?"

"Something to eat and a pot of tea sounds wonderful, Tom. I'd really appreciate that."

With his belly full from the first solid meal he'd had in a week and his body relaxed by a hot, leisurely bath, Harry crawled into the big, soft bed that dominated the room he was renting and groaned. His hands hurt even though he had his wand clutched in both hands and that urgent need to find or do _something_ was not easing its grip on him as quickly as it had the night before and he desperately wanted to get some rest before he went wandering the next day. **I'll find whatever it is in the morning...I think I will go crazy if I don't find it soon...**

**_July 6th, Diagon Alley_**

Harry had woken up from his not so restful sleep with an inexplicable desire to walk the Alley. He was still driven by that unceasing sensation of seeking something without knowing what it was he sought and between that and the constant aching of his hands that was now spreading up his arms, the teen was reaching a frantic and desperate place within him self.

He stopped at the signpost denoting the particular sector of the alley he was in and gazed about, green eyes searching for some clue. His eyes fell on the faded gold letters of the Ollivander's Wand shop and he was overcome with a need to enter the shop, so he did.

The bell above the door rang as Harry walked in. He looked around; the shop hadn't changed at all in the not quite five years since he had last entered. He sat down on the rickety chair the wand maker kept in the front of the shop and waited. **I wonder why he doesn't get a better chair...**

"I was wondering when I'd see you again, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple, superb for defence and charms and good for transfiguration. How is it serving you? I hope you haven't damaged it..."

The voice startled Harry and he jumped out of the chair. "Hello," he said politely to the older man. "I...no, my wand is fine, thank you... I saw the sign and I had to come in. I don't know why I'm here, actually..."

Ollivander smiled at the confused young man, silver eyes filling with a margin of concern over the way he seemed to clutch at the wand he now held in both hands. "You came for a wand."

Harry looked at him confusedly. "I already have one though."

Again the old man smiled. "Your wand needs a mate."

Harry just looked at him, trying to process what he had just heard. **A mate? A second wand...is that why I keep feeling this pain?**

Mistaking the young man's further silence for lack of understanding, Ollivander elaborated. "All the powerful Warlocks have two wands and every wand has a mate." He paused. "I seem to recall that you were quite the tricky customer. The core of your wand limits the number of choices and there are only so many wands with a core that will properly balance something as Light and powerful as the phoenix feather core your Holly wand contains, so that narrows the number of wands possible considerably. The difficulty is doubled by the fact that the phoenix who donated your core was an ancient, so split the choices that remain by half at the very least."

He paused and took in Harry's intent expression with no small amount of amusement. "That makes the number of choices around two hundred wands since we only have my stock to work with."

"Two hundred?" Harry asked incredulously. That sounded like a lot of wands to have to go through.

"Indeed."

"What did you mean by 'all warlocks have two wands'? Is that why my hands started aching...why they hurt even more now?"

"Actually, I said that all powerful warlocks have two wands, and you are undoubtedly a powerful warlock." Ollivander studied Harry with a little more open concern now. "How badly do your hands hurt and is it only your hands?"

Harry doubted he was all that powerful, but he decided to go along with Ollivander on that point for now.

"They started aching early yesterday morning, well before dawn...when I woke this morning they still ached but the ache moved up into my arms a little while ago." Something that Ollivander kept saying was confusing him. "I'm a Wizard, right? What's a Warlock and why do you keep calling me one?"

Ollivander gazed at him, surprised. "No one has ever told you?"

"No one has ever told me what?" Harry was starting to get irritated and that was making his hands ache even more fiercely.

"Has no one told you about your family history, about your Families and your heritage?"

"What do you mean? What's to tell? Mom was muggleborn and Dad was a pureblood. I only have one family...doesn't everyone?"

Ollivander looked shocked. "No one's ever told him," he muttered into the air and shook his head with an exasperated sounding growl.

Harry looked at the old man confusedly as he mumbled to himself. He waited for a few minutes before interrupting the old man's thoughts in a slightly more forceful tone than before. "What did you mean by families and heritage?"

Ollivander seemed to collect himself. He looked as if he was on the verge of bursting and he said to Harry, "I will explain everything shortly. I have to check on something so I know exactly what I need to cover. Please stay here for a bit." With that he turned and disappeared into the back of the shop.

Ollivander almost ran to the fireplace, lit the fire with an incantation, threw in the floo powder, and shouted, "Dumbledore's Summerhouse." He then stuck his head into the fire and waited. He called out, "Albus! Get down here NOW!" He watched the door open and took satisfaction in seeing the other looking as confused as the young man he had waiting in his shop.

"What is it Marik? Has something happened? Was there an attack at the Alley?!"

Ollivander snarled, "Do you know who is in my shop at this moment?"

Taken aback by the wand maker's anger, Albus blinked and shook his head. "No...Who paid you a visit and why would you expect me to know their identity?"

"Harry James Potter Evans Black is in my shop as we speak. Do you know WHY?" Marik practically yelled the last word, silver eyes luminescent with anger.

Dumbledore was definitely starting to look a little ashamed and concerned, but he also looked curious.

"Why?"

"He's here to get his wand a mate and he had no idea why he was in my shop or that he might have needed a second! The poor child is in pain from the demands his magic is putting on his body and it is your fault, Albus Dumbledore!!!"

Dumbledore blinked at Marik with unconcealed shock. The boy hadn't shown any signs that would indicate that kind of power...at least none that he had noticed. "But a wizard hasn't required a mate for his wand in more than 300 years."

Ollivander looked at Albus like he was contemplating doing him serious physical harm. "With all of his family connections, how could he not need a mate for his wand? He's the heir of three houses and you didn't even think it might be a possibility? You didn't even explain to him that it might be possible!"

Dumbledore was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Uh...I wanted him to have as normal a childhood as possible...and it just never came up..."

Ollivander looked even angrier, if possible. He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper "Why didn't you explain it to him when you told him about his family?"

The other man remained silent, and Ollivander had no problem interpreting what Albus' lack of response meant.

"Do you mean to say that the boy has no knowledge of his own blood?"

Dumbledore could see the rage in the wand maker's eyes and it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Well, you see...there was really no good time and I was planning to tell Harry about his family after he grad-." He was cut off.

"Albus we will discuss this later. Right now I am going to tell that boy about his family - families - and then I will tell the boy why his wand is in need of a mate, and from now on you will hide nothing from him. Is that clear?"

Dumbledore nodded quickly and watched as the man's head disappeared from his fire. He really had not planned on telling Harry about his family before the boy graduated from school, if at all, but if Harry needed another wand, and then Dumbledore was more than happy to let Marik be the one to tell the tale. He shuddered as he recalled the wand maker's anger and it was then that he realized that he should probably worry about their upcoming "talk".

Back in the front room of Ollivander's shop, Harry was getting nervous. **What did he mean when he said I was a powerful Warlock? And why do I need two wands? I mean that part makes sense, sort of, I guess. I can feel that I need the other wand, but why...**

The young man's thoughts were interrupted by the older man's re-entry. Harry stood up from his precarious perch on the old man's spindly chair and quietly asked the question that was most prominent in his mind.

"Mr. Ollivander, what is a Warlock? I've never heard that particular term used before, sir."

Ollivander looked at Harry for a long moment before replying. He could see the potential fairly bursting free of the younger Warlock's body and aura and knew they needed to develop some sort of rapport or he'd never be able to teach him properly.

Harry was a bit unnerved by the way Ollivander seemed to be considering him and was relieved when the older man started speaking.

"Call me Marik, and if it's all right, I'll call you Harry." He waited for Harry's nod of affirmation and continued. "Since it's obvious that you know nothing about your families, or apparently even about your name or about our kind, I will explain everything." Seeing that Harry was about to ask something, he answered what he felt safe in assuming the question would be before the young man could even open his mouth, "And I'll explain about Warlocks and the need for two wands... Do you want to get your wand first or do you want me to tell you your story?"

Harry considered the older man's question seriously. "Which will take longer?"

"It's likely that the story will take a good long while to tell."

Harry nodded and spoke the answer that the urgent need and aching pain in his body had driven him to accept.

"I...I _need_ the wand. You can tell me my story after."

Ollivander nodded and smiled. "The blood is very strong in you, Harry." He then walked to the shelf closest to them and selected a wand seemingly as if at random. Holding the box out to the green eyed teen, he smiled encouragingly.

"All right, let's try this one first."


	2. Answers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything about the Potterverse. That all belongs to J.K.R. No copyright infringement is intended.

**AN:** The original idea and inspiration for this story – Harry Potter and The Warlock's Calling – was written by Shadowface, who was kind enough to give me permission to take the idea and run with it. I hope you all enjoy my version.

_Letters, Etc._

**Thoughts, Mindspeak**

//Parseltongue//

**Pairings: **Tentatively HP/??, HG/??, NL/LL. As I make concrete decisions, I will update this comment. I am open to suggestions, so let me know which pairings you would like to see and I will let you know which ones I decide to go with.

**July 6th, Ollivander's Wand Shop**

Several hours dragged by and Harry felt his attention begin to wander. The shop seemed deceptively old and shabby and he wondered if it was all a carefully crafted illusion to keep people from trying to steal things or if the shop really did look this way. Sighing softly, he turned his head and paused to gaze out the window into the sunny alley outside. **I hope Hedwig is doing okay, **he mused and yawned so widely his jaw popped. He hid his next yawn as Marik returned and handed him yet another wand.

"Seven inches mahogany," Marik murmured and watched the bored teen grab the wand and wave it through the air with nary a spark or any sign that there was magic in the item or the boy. He took the wand back and shook his head with frustration openly visible on his face. He handed him another wand and didn't even bother to hope that this would be the one.

Waving a wand that felt as much like a dead stick in his hand as the last several dozen had, Harry shook his head and slumped in the rickety chair that had been his 'home' since they started this task.

"You're even trickier than last time." Marik grumbled to him self as yet another wand was returned to him after receiving the same lack of response from the teenager's magic. He shook his head again and Harry sighed.

"Will my new wand be similar to the one I have now?" Harry asked as he lost track of exactly how many wands he had held over the course of the last several hours.

"There have been a few Warlocks in the past that required a second wand that did wield two similar wands or foci," Marik replied contemplatively. "But they did not tend to be very diverse in their choice of spells and rarely engaged in duelling unless both of their wands or foci were Dark."

"Opposites, then? Maybe these wands have all been too similar to my Holly wand?" the green eyed youth ventured hopefully and stood to ease the aches he felt from sitting in one place for so long. The only positive thing he had noticed during the course of their search for his wand's mate was the lessened pain he was feeling in his hands; it wasn't gone, but it was infinitely more bearable. Pacing slowly back and forth in the small shop front to get the blood flowing in his legs again, his steps took him ever closer to something he felt tugging at him but he ignored it for the tangible pursuit of a match for his current wand.

"What would be the opposite of a Holly and Phoenix feather wand?"

"Opposites, or perhaps even perfect opposites?" Marik whispered and studied Harry with unblinking, bird-like intensity for several minutes before nodding to himself. He had been trying to find core and wood combinations that were different from but still complimentary to the original wand in some way. Perhaps he _had_ been going about it all wrong.

"Opposites indeed. There is Light and Darkness in you, life that has been touched by death, love and hate, mercy and vengeance…and you have excellent instincts, young man."

Harry nodded to acknowledge the compliment but still shifted a little uncertainly under the wand maker's continued scrutiny. Marik had brought up some very positive points, and much as he would like to deny the darker side of what Marik had said, he knew he could not.

"So a good wand for me might be what?"

"The direct opposite of Holly, the wood of Life, would be Yew," Marik replied with a triumphant little smile. "And the opposite of an Ancient creature of Light such as Fawkes, who donated the feather for your wand, would be an equally Ancient Dark creature such as the Basilisk. Given the age old rivalry between the two species and your affinity to Serpents, Basilisk could well be your best core material."

"Voldemort's wand is made from Yew and one of Fawkes' feathers. Does that mean he would need something like Holly and Basilisk to compliment him if he were a Warlock?" Harry rubbed his arms as the hairs stood up and refused to lie down.

"Of course he would have to be one…we're supposed to be equals…" Harry breathed to himself as the words of the prophecy resurfaced in his memory for a brief moment.

"He did not come to me, if he did indeed need a second wand, so I do not know what form his wand's mate might have taken," Marik murmured and filed the boy's comment about he and Voldemort being equals away for later discussion. They had more important things to deal with at the moment.

"Returning to your proposed combination of Yew and Basilisk, Harry…the only problem with that idea is few survive long term exposure to a wand that contains any part of a Basilisk and those who do usually have to take the anti-venom on a regular basis."

"I've already survived being bitten by a Basilisk," Harry replied. "It was because Fawkes cried in the wound that I managed to do so, though."

"You lived long enough after the bite for the phoenix to cry in the wound and for the tears to take effect?" Marik made a sound under his breath that sounded remotely like a beak clicking together before he spoke again. "Interesting. But then, you are a Speaker, so you have that natural affinity towards Serpents that I spoke of previously. Yes, Yew and Basilisk might very well be the match you seek…"

"Great," Harry whispered. As relieved as he was to have that decided, he now had to wonder how long it would take to get the items needed to make the wand in question if one was not readily available. **It isn't like he would just have the very wand I need just lying around in plain sight,** Harry thought to himself. "How difficult is it going to be to find this perfect match?"

"It shouldn't be very difficult at all, though the serendipitous nature of the situation does amuse me to no end," Marik observed and shook his head. "It seems that some one smiles upon you, Harry, for there is one wand my Great, Great Grandfather created that never responded to his magic and it very nearly killed him to finish crafting it. The wand I speak of is the first ever created by my family."

Groaning, Harry smacked one hand up to his forehead and shook his head in silent denial.

"You don't just have it lying around where everyone can see it…do you?" he asked even as his mind tried to grasp how it could have been made by this man's twice removed Grandfather when so much time had passed since the family started making wands. The thought made his head hurt when he tried to calculate how old Ollivander might be, so he let it go for now.

"Of course I do," Marik replied with an indignant sound. "All wands are meant to be used, Harry. Every Ollivander who has made wands since my ancestor's time has displayed the wand in the hopes that it would find a match. It has had an exceptionally long wait, but I think its time has finally come."

"So much time…way over a thousand years…which Basilisk did the core come from?" Harry whispered. He was expecting this little bit of irony to play out but was hoping he was wrong. He wasn't sure he could handle that much serendipity in his life right about now. "Please tell me it wasn't related to the one Salazar Slytherin kept underneath Hogwarts in the Chamber…"

"Hmm? Oh, that would have been…" Marik blinked at the teen that looked to be in a bit of pain as he stood there with both hands now rubbing at his forehead. "Are you quite alright, Harry?"

"I will be once I get over being upset about the games Fate seems to like to play with my life," Harry whispered unhappily. "Were the two basilisks related in any way to your knowledge?"

"Well, not that I am aware of, no," Marik replied and sighed. "But it is still a possibility that you will have to investigate on your own if you wish to pursue the subject of the Basilisk's lineage."

"Yeah, maybe later," Harry muttered and relaxed just a little. "If you don't know for certain, then I can live without knowing for just a little while longer. So…which wand do I need to try now?"

"Let your self relax and feel for just a moment, young Warlock. Your pacing has taken you within touching range of it several times and I believe you will take it up on your own if you just follow those fine instincts I complimented you for a short while ago," Marik replied. He smirked when the teen frowned thunderously in his direction. "Just close your eyes, take up your Holly wand in your right hand and pick up the wand your left requires."

"Why didn't you tell me to do this with the other wands?" Harry grumbled at the older wizard. "We could have saved a lot of time…"

"Oh, do be quiet and stop thinking for just a moment," Marik growled, startling the teen. "Just let yourself follow the instincts that have been guiding you since you left your relative's home and your current discomfort will cease to be an issue."

Nodding sharply when the elder's unexpectedly harsh tone had the desired effect of focusing his attention back to the task at hand, Harry let his eyes drift closed and took his wand out of his pocket. His right hand stopped aching quite so badly, but his left throbbed with his pulse and every painful beat focused him more and more on one spot in the small shop space. Uttering a low sound of pain and triumph, he pivoted on his heel and closed the small distance that was separating him from the wand he could now feel to the core of his very essence. He picked it up with his left hand and cried out softly as a surge of power filled his body and swept away the pain he had been feeling for the last several days.

"Open your eyes, Harry," Marik commanded in a much gentler tone than the one he had used just moments before.

Languidly obeying the gentle command at first, Harry felt his eyes snap open wide as he became consciously aware of the vibration both wands were generating on top of the deep crimson glow that was emanating from the Phoenix wand and the dark black tinged green glow that surrounded the Basilisk wand. He pressed the tips of the wands together without knowing why he needed to do so and gasped when the two coloured lights went out like he had flipped a switch and flared back into life as a strong burst of silver and gold that vanished when the wands parted as if of their own accord. Trembling a little from the sheer rush of power he felt while holding both of these wands in hands that no longer hurt, Harry jumped when he actually heard Marik clapping over the impressive visual display.

"Curious," Marik said with a contemplative expression on his face once he had taken the time to study the teen yet again. "Curious indeed."

"What's curious this time?" Harry stumbled back towards the rickety chair he had spent so much time in and sank back down to sit on it once more. Maybe his legs would stop shaking in a little bit…

"My family has waited over two thousand years for that wand to find a match, Harry. As I told you before, the wand you now hold in your hand was the first my family ever made. So there you sit with your mated wands. Yew and Basilisk heartstring, thirteen and a half inches, excellent for Dark Magic, curses and hexes. Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches, superb for Defence and Charms, good for Transfiguration. I never dreamed of the day when I would see two such diametrically opposed wands mated in the hands of a Warlock."

He seemed to contemplate the pair of still slightly vibrating wands before speaking again in a much quieter tone. "I do find it more than slightly…unusual that you required woods from the trees of Life and Death with cores from the lightest and darkest species known to balance your apparently very volatile magic." Marik sighed and shrugged gaelically. "Inform me if you begin to feel ill or overly tired for any reason as we may have to start adding anti-venom to your food if you are to continue to use the wand…"

"Don't worry, Mr. Ollivander…I already know what dying from Basilisk venom feels like. Remember?" Harry smirked at the older wizard and sighed as the trembling in his muscles began to ease up finally. "Could we start that story now?"

The old man smiled and said, "It's Marik, and yes I think it is time to start the telling"

**July 6th, Dumbledore's Summer House**

Stunned by Marik's unexpectedly vehement verbal attack regarding Harry's heritage and familial issues, Albus Dumbledore returned to his study in a bit of a daze. **No one speaks to me that way any more! **he thought indignantly. **I'm the greatest wizard alive!** Shaking his head ruefully, he had to admit the fact that there was a similar reason why no one gave Marik Ollivander too much trouble. Settling in his favourite poufy chair, the elderly wizard poured himself a fresh cup of tea.

"No one has spoken to me with such a lack of respect in decades! What ever was he thinking?"

Feeling much calmer after a handful of lemon drops and a second cup of tea, Albus thought back on the previous school year and wondered how he could have possibly missed the signs of the boy's growing power – it had been centuries since a wizard properly earned the title of Warlock through the requirement of two mated wands but the signs of burgeoning power were still known by the older families and should have been unmistakeable.

"There is no way I could have missed such obvious signs," Albus grumbled and another possibility began to form in his wily and well organized mind. "Unless Marik has grown feeble in his dotage and is quite mistaken about Mr. Potter's actual need for a second wand…" He frowned darkly.

"Sweet Merlin, he must be mistaken. If Harry is indeed a Warlock, then Tom must also be one if the prophecy is to be taken at face value."

He had never seen the current Dark Lord using more than one wand so he seriously doubted that Tom had made the necessary jump in power that would have elevated him to the even deadlier level of Warlock. Shaking his head when he decided it would be best to be certain of all eventualities, he immediately began formulating plans to have Severus attempt to discover whether or not Tom carried a second wand or focus with him at all times. Such information could mean the difference in success or failure when it came time for Harry to face Tom one last time. With that contingencey plan taken care of, Albus relaxed even further into his seat and drank some more tea.

"Well, Marik will make sure the boy has a suitable second wand regardless of whether he needs it for true or not. It never hurts to have a hold out in case one gets summoned away," he mused, then froze as it finally sank in that Harry was not at Privet Drive…he was at Ollivander's shop in Diagon Alley.

"How did he manage to run away from the Dursley's without my knowledge? Why wasn't I alerted?" Rising, he stepped out of his study and into the foyer of his home and immediately apparated to his office at Hogwarts.

Greeted by the quiet serenity of his many bobbing and swaying magical devices, he frowned and went directly to the grouping of charmed objects that he kept focused on Harry. Casting several tersely spoken spells to assure himself that they were functioning properly, Albus determined that they were all doing their assigned jobs and also discovered one loophole that might explain how Harry had escaped the Dursley home without setting off an alarm. He hadn't counted on Harry leaving the Dursleys of his own choice and volition despite the events that had occurred during the summer prior to the teen's third year.

"He's still at Diagon Alley…why hasn't the alarm sounded?" he mused again and began to get angry himself. It simply did not make sense to him why Harry would disobey a direct order from his Headmaster. Drawing himself up straight, he apparated yet again, this time to Diagon Alley. **They must have found the boy a second wand by now…**

**July 6th, Ollivander's Wand Shop**

Relaxing a bit more as the wands he held stopped vibrating and his legs felt less like he had been hit by a Jelly-Legs jinx, Harry smiled genuinely at the wand maker. He started to tuck both wands into his pocket, only to pause when Marik chuckled and shook his head before beckoning for him to come around behind the counter.

"What? Don't tell me you agree with Moody about putting wands in your pocket," he commented ruefully.

"I am not particularly fond of the current habit of placing a wand where it could be so easily broken," Marik commented with a sigh. "That is not my reasoning for stopping you, however. You will need to keep your wands in contact with your skin as much as possible so soon after bonding them," Marik explained, measured the teens forearms and reached into a bin under the counter. Pulling out two almost delicate looking contraptions made of scaled green leather, he arched an eyebrow at the confused looking young man. "These are wand holsters of the variety preferred by most Aurors. They are made of dragon hide, which makes them extremely resistant to spell damage and pesky things like summoning charms that an opponent might aim at the holsters. It may appear to be too short for an average wand but believe me, the wand will fit."

"Is it a shrinking charm? How do I get the wand out?" Harry asked and watched intently while Ollivander strapped the first holster onto his right forearm. Mimicing him for the one the older wizard held out for his left arm, he couldn't help but grin. Now he wouldn't have to try to keep his wand from falling out of his sleeve when he tried to carry it tucked that way. "How do you hide the holster if you wear short sleeves?"

Delighted by Harry's interest and grasp of the drawbacks of wearing the holsters full time, Marik nodded and hummed to him self before replying to the boy's stream of questions.

"You are correct in guessing it incorporates a shrinking charm," he stated approvingly. "Slide your wands into the appropriate holster and then I will show you the wrist movement that will trigger the release spell. As for hiding the holsters, we can add a minor glamour charm between now and the time you return to Hogwarts. For now, we need to be able to see that you are not reacting badly to the basilisk wand."

"Oh, okay…I can see that, I suppose," Harry murmured and slid each wand into its new home and grinned when they seemed to shrink down to around six inches in length. He flexed his wrists and moved his arms briefly to get a feel for the leather that now bound his forearms and smiled even more brightly when he felt little or no resistance to his usual range of motion. "Okay, how do I…oh…I guess that's how…"

Marik clapped his delight when Harry finished an experimental roll of his wrist and was forced to use his seeker reflexes to capture his unexpectedly released wand.

"Excellent catch, Harry! Now, did you feel the exact position of your wrist that caused your wand to be released?"

Harry frowned as he slid his wand back into place. Tilting his head to one side, he rolled his wrist again and was forced to catch the wand again even as a crooked smile began to form on his lips. Shifting his left hand into a position as close to the one his right was currently in – a position he recalled from the minimal duelling instruction he had received – he felt his new wand shoot out of the holster and into his waiting grip.

"That is so brilliant, Marik! Thank you!"

"You figured it out quite well on your own, Harry. Now, put your wands away so we can move this conversation to a more comfortable location," Ollivander stated with a congratulatory pat to the teen's shoulder. "Telling your history is going to take a while…"

Sufficently peeved to have forgotten his earlier intimidation at the hands of Marik Ollivander, Albus stepped into the shop in time to see the old wand maker pat Harry on the shoulder with an approving smile.

"Marik! What is the meaning of this? Harry, my boy, you know it isn't safe for you to be away from Privet Drive," Albus immediately stated and ignored how quickly Harry had him under double wand point for his own self important, nay, righteous indignation. "You must come with me, my boy. I will return you to your relatives."

Marik blinked when Harry went from happy and smiling to looking like a rather angry and startled young Warlock when Albus barged in and started berating the both of them. He did not ignore the unwavering way those two wands were focused on the other man.

"Why ever would you think young Harry wouldn't be safe here, Albus?" he asked mildly. "No one would think to look for him while he is in my care."

"I can't go back to Privet Drive and I don't want to," Harry added as calmly as he could despite the hot edge of anger that laced his tone. "The Dursleys don't want me and I promised them I wouldn't be back. I also promised that none of your people would bother them. Please don't make a liar out of me, Professor Dumbledore."

"Your Aunt Petunia is your Mother's sister, her blood," Albus protested condescendingly. "You must live there to remain protected from Voldemort. You must live there to protect your relatives from him as well."

"Harry will be staying with me," Marik stated. "He has much to learn about his power and his wands before it will be safe for him to return to school. Voldemort would never look for Harry here and he knows to not disturb me in any case. As for your concern about the wards, well, anyone who knows how to cast them knows they can be added here using Harry's blood as the anchor."

Only then realizing that Harry had not put his wands away when he turned to implore him to see reason, Albus actually focused properly on the young man in question and carefully hid a very startled reaction. The young Warlock's wands gave off an unmistakeable glow of power that marked him as being exactly what Marik had claimed. The feel of his growing power added weight to that claim as well. Gathering his composure, Albus gave in as gracefully as he could for now; as long as the wards on Privet Drive held he would have no further ammunition to use against the boy and he was curious how long they would hold after his inordinately short stay to recharge them.

"Very well. You are clearly both set on this path but I fear you will come to regret the decisions you have made today. Do be careful, Harry, my boy. Voldemort is always looking for ways to strike at you."

Harry watched the old wizard leave and released his wands back into their holsters even as he started to shake in reaction to what he had done. **I pointed my wands at Albus Dumbledore! What was I thinking?! Bloody hell, I couldn't have been thinking…**

"Harry," Marik murmured and frowned when the teen looked up at him with eyes full of uncertainty and more than a little fear. Laying his hands on the young Warlock's shoulders, he met his gaze openly and without reproach. "I do not know the story of why you are so angry at Albus, but you reacted very well. You made him see you for what you are growing to be before he could begin to deny my claim that you were, indeed, a Warlock."

"Why would he try to deny it?" Harry asked even as his mind supplied one answer. **If you are proven to be a Warlock, then he knows Tom has to be one, too. Denying one denies the other… **he thought even as Marik pretty much echoed his own conclusion.

"There is a great connection between your self and our current Dark Lord. You have brother wands…you both speak parseltongue…and there are many other things I am not aware of, of that I am certain. For some reason, you think that what you are means Voldemort must echo that strength. Albus appears to feel the same way, so in trying to deny your new power…" Marik smiled when he saw unhappy understanding in the boy's green eyes. "But you already figured that out, did you not?"

Harry nodded and sighed wearily.

"Yes, sir, I had already worked that out. Thank you for trying to make me feel better about…I can't believe I aimed my wands at him…"

"You felt threatened in some way," Marik stated simply. His face became closed for a moment and he shook his head before relaxing yet again. "Before I begin telling your story, let us retire to the back of the shop. I doubt you are in the mood for further interruptions any more than I am at this point in the day."

Marik led the teen behind the counter after closing up the shop with a casual seeming gesture of one hand. Passing through the workroom and on into the beginnings of his living space, he could practically feel the younger man's surprise.

"I didn't think you lived here at your shop," Harry mused. "I would have expected a flat in London or something…a house maybe…" He blushed lightly and shrugged when Marik smirked at him. Seating himself on the small couch that the older man indicated with another gesture of a slender pale hand, he focused bright green eyes on the man who was offering him answers about his family and heritage for the first time since he became aware of the Wizarding world.

"I prefer to live where my own magic is strongest," Marik replied. "I have found that the few unlikely thieves who have made it through my wards are usually quite in a hurry to leave when they discover that the shop is not unattended."

Grinning broadly at the thought of a couple Death Eaters making it into the shop and finding themselves unexpectedly at wand point, Harry nodded his understanding.

"I guess I can't argue with that. This is a really nice place. So…the story?"

"I suppose I should start by telling you the most important thing first; your name is not just Harry James Potter. Your full birth name is Harry James Potter Evans Black," Marik began. "Your mother's parents were the squib children of dying pureblood families. Their names were Frederick Evans and Rose Mandolin. Rose had been married previously and was widowed for about a year before she met Frederick. Her first marriage was to a Muggle and it produced your Aunt Petunia. After her first husband died, Rose met and fell in love with Frederick." Marik paused as if to gather his thoughts and then continued where he had left off.

"It is really quite rare for Squibs to meet each other in the Muggle world after they have been exiled from their families. Though their exiles are often self-imposed, in all fairness they very likely had little choice but to leave their family homes to live in the muggle world. Squibs are often ridiculed in pureblood families and after Frederick and Rose's situation was discovered, all of their pureblood friends would have abandoned them."

"Now I know why it was so important to Neville to prove that he wasn't a Squib," Harry murmured and shook his head. "He isn't a Squib. He does very well if you give him a chance…"

"I do believe you are correct," Marik murmured. "His grandmother brought him in a few days ago to replace the wand that was broken during your latest adventure. It responded very well to his magic and I believe his school work will show a great deal of improvement in the coming year." Pain, anger and a surprisingly strong burst of hate filled Harry's eyes, giving them a much more Avada Kedavra shine for but a moment before it faded away leaving him looking tired and worn. Considering this reaction to be another point for later discussion, Marik filed the moment away and returned his focus to the telling of his story. "Now, where was I?"

"You were talking about Frederick and Rose…" Harry replied and forced himself to sit up and forget about the Department of Mysteries for right now. He was certain to have nightmares about it for the rest of his life any way so he might as well distract himself for as long as possible.

"Ah, yes. Approximately a year after the new couple married, Lily was born. And, of course, being a baby and Frederick's blood daughter, she received a bit more attention than Petunia as I believe is typical of such situations. Lily's magical nature was discovered fairly early in her childhood when she began to show signs of accidental magic. You can imagine, I am sure, how pleased Frederick and Rose would have been to discover that their youngest daughter was a witch. It is from this that I believe your aunt's hatred of magic originates."

Harry nodded and felt the faintest stirring of pity for his Aunt Petunia. No wonder she hadn't wanted anything to do with him or the magical sister he reminded her of; every time he did something 'abnormal' and Dudley showed no sign of ability would have just made it worse. **Would it have been different if Dudley had been magical?** he wondered and sighed. There was no way to answer that question now, so he chose to not worry about it. "That explains the Evans since it's my Mom's maiden name, but how do you explain the Black?"

Marik smiled at Harry's youthful impatience.

"I'll get to that soon, but I have to finish with your mother's story first. Now where was I? Ah yes. Your mother's parents raised her to believe that she was Muggle born, so she was surprised when, after they died, she received a letter telling her she had pureblood grandparents and that she had inherited their entire estate. That was, of course, the Mandolins inheritance since the Evans inheritance follows the Old ways and can only be inherited by the next eldest male of the line."

He paused and seeing Harry's impatience said, "Yes, yes, on to the Blacks. You know that your father and Sirius Black were close friends, right?" He smiled a bit when Harry nodded eagerly. "At the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts, they conducted a ritual which bonded them by blood and Magic. In every sense of the word they were brothers when the ritual was completed…much to the displeasure of Sirius's mother, I might add. She even came to me looking for some way, any way, that she could possibly break the bonding between her son and James Potter. There was, of course, nothing I could say or do to help her in that specific instance. The ceremony itself requires two witnesses; I believe they were Remus Lupin and your mother. So it was a witnessed 'birth' after which Sirius became the next heir to the Potters after James and James became the next heir to the Blacks after Sirius."

Harry interrupted, "Why didn't they bond with Professor Lupin? And why was Sirius's mum upset?"

"To answer your first question, the bonding of blood would have run a very strong risk of infecting the other two with lycanthropy. As for your second question, Sirius's mother did not like the fact that James's family had a history of consorting with Muggles and Muggleborns."

Harry thought for a second and asked even though he had an idea of what the answer would be. "So why haven't I heard of any of this?"

"Dumbledore," Marik replied.

The answer was one word but it spoke volumes to the teen who was already unhappy with the Scion of the Wizarding world. **He promised to tell me everything right after telling me the prophecy. He promised me…no more things would be kept from me…** Taking a deep breath to calm and centre him self when his Yew wand vibrated in its holster with what felt like an eager response to his anger, Harry growled quietly and let out an angry sounding sigh.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he asked almost silently before another thought distracted him away from that line of consideration. "I've seen my birth certificate, and it doesn't say either 'Evans' or 'Black,'" Harry said, puzzled. "All it has on it for my name is Harry James Potter."

"I imagine that the certificate that the Muggles had was a false one given to your aunt by Albus."

Despite his growing desire to pursue this line of interest with all of the questions that were bubbling up in the back of his mind, the green eyed teen decided to find out as much as he could about his heritage first before diverting himself off onto another subject. Harry nodded in response to Marik's reply.

"How do you know all this?"

"The Ollivander family has long been known for two things, one more notable than the other. First and foremost, we are wand makers. Our second calling, as it were, is that of historian for the Wizarding world. I am the official record keeper of the wizarding community of Britain. I, therefore, know every thing of any import about almost all British Witches and Wizards, be they Muggle born, Half Blood, New Blood, Old Blood, or Ancient Blood."

"What are those?" Harry asked. He was fairly certain what the last three terms meant but when it came to things like blood purity, terminology didn't always mean what he thought it should. Since he had never heard even someone as blood supremacist as Draco Malfoy use terms like Old, New or Ancient Blood, he preferred to make sure he did understand.

"What are what?"

"The last three you mentioned; New Blood, Old Blood, and Ancient Blood." Harry arched an eyebrow at the old man and grinned crookedly. "I'm used to hearing about muggleborns, half-bloods and purebloods but I haven't heard any one use those other three. They seem pretty self-explanatory, but…"

Marik looked at Harry in surprised silence for a few moments and then shook his head ruefully.

"New blood refers to pureblood families that can only trace their lineage back through one thousand years or less of documented magical heritage. Old Blood refers to families that can document their claims as far back as fifteen hundred years and 'Ancient Blood' is any family that can prove a magical lineage that is older than the previous fifteen hundred years. All of your families are of Ancient lineage. The Evans family traces its origins from Ireland where they were among the first of the ancient Druidic clans. The Potters first lived in the north lands among the Germanic Hordes and later came down into Europe as War Mages for the Viking raiding parties that ventured south. The Blacks originated somewhere in Greece. They seem to take great pride in their shadowy lineage, but most over look that since they have been around almost as long as the Evans family and slightly longer than the Potters. There are only a few ancient pure blood families left. Ollivander, of course, is one, as are Dumbledore, Longbottom, and a few others."

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked with a small grin. He could live with the idea of having one up on the stuck up blonde aristocrat for once.

"Ah, yes, your arch-rival Draco Malfoy is of Old, but not quite Ancient blood. I am certain it will chafe him to no end to discover that you have far better breeding than he or his parents can lay claim to."

Startled into laughter by Marik's unexpectedly snide tone and commentary regarding the Malfoy's, Harry felt some of his previous tension fade in that sweet rush of merriment.

"I bet it will…"

"Now, you know a small amount of the history surrounding your Mother, Father and Uncle," Marik began and saw Harry's frown start to form. "Remember when I told you Sirius became James' brother?"

Eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears when what Marik had said hit him, Harry nodded mutely and gestured for him to go on with is story telling so he could regain his composure. Sirius was his Uncle, not just his Godfather…

"As I was saying," Marik continued on in a gentle tone. "Now that you have some basic knowledge of your families and their history, do you have any questions about them?"

"Um, I'm sure I have hundreds," Harry admitted with a light blush. "But it's all pretty overwhelming. Would it be okay if I write them down as I think of something so I can ask you later?"

"That will do quite well, Harry. Now, your new wand acted up just a few moments ago. Did you notice it?"

Harry nodded and shrugged even as he tried to figure out how to explain what had happened without sounding crazy.

"I was angry when you told me that Professor Dumbledore had kept all of this information from me," he began in a quiet, cautious voice. Looking up at Marik and seeing only curiosity, he gained confidence. "It vibrated against my arm like it was eager to do something about my anger…so I did my best to calm down…"

Marik contemplated what Harry had said and then nodded sagely. Though it was unusual for a wand to react in such a way, it was equally unusual to have such rare and powerful cores resonating with a wizard's magic. Perhaps it was the Warlock's wild magic that had caused it.

Very curious indeed."

"I admit it's curious, but something just occurred me."

"What's that?"

"You still haven't told me what a warlock is."

Marik smiled and continued his explanations.

"In current, modern times, almost any wizard could use the title of warlock simply because the two terms have become synonomous in the minds the general population. The older families frown on such casual use of the title and will often denigrate any wizard or witch who uses the term erroneously. The proper title applies only to a wielder of Wyld magic, the magic that can not be touched by just one wand." Marik studied his young companion for a brief moment before continuing.

"The ancient Warlocks usually had a wand and then a focus so that their wand could access their own core magics and the focus could access their connection to the free flowing Wyld magic. That you were driven to a second wand instead of a focus tells me that you are a powerful warlock. You need to have two wands because your own core magic is simply too diverse in nature to ever be truly tamed by your original wand. It is Wyld in it's own way and I believe your control of both your core magic and the Wyld magic around you will be much finer because of the two wands you wield. In fact, you may discover that your wand of choice will differ depending on the type of magic you are practicing at the time."

Harry still looked puzzled and asked, "Why is this happening now? Why not when I first came in?"

"When you first came in, your magic was diverse, but it was also small. Magic is a lot like the vessel that contains it. It grows bigger and changes as you get older." He paused and smiled. "Have you noticed in the past few years that your magic is often too small or too large - that the simplest spell is sometimes overdone or too weak?"

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, and Marik continued, "As you go through puberty, so does your magic. That you now need two wands is evidence that your magical maturation is complete. It will grow still more as will your body, but as of now it is as 'matured' as it's going to get."

The explanation left Harry even more confused, but he decided to shrug it off. After all, he needed two wands. It didn't matter why right this moment. He could ask more questions later when his mind didn't feel so full to overflowing with new information and Marik had said that he would be better at magic because of the wands. If Harry was to defeat Voldemort, he needed to be strong and better in magic. That thought led to another one that had been running around in his mind since he had walked into the shop earlier in the day.

"Is Voldemort a Warlock? All you said is he didn't come to you for a second wand."

Marik thought for a moment before responding. This was clearly very important to the young man that sat across from him and he didn't want to appear to take the question lightly.

"His Mother's blood, and therefore his own, is old enough for it to be possible, but I can not truly say if he ever needed a second wand for the very reason I stated previously. He might just have a focus or he might not be a Warlock at all. He is extremely powerful, whatever the case, so always be wary of him."

Harry nodded emphatically. It wasn't as if he didn't know that from personal experience!

"I still don't understand about wild magic. There has to be more to it or else there would be Warlocks everywhere."

Marik nodded again and said, "I'll explain more about your magics when I start teaching you."

"You're going to be teaching me?" Harry blinked at Marik for a moment. "You told Dumbledore I had a lot to learn before I could go back to Hogwarts but it didn't connect in my head…"

"I am quite probably the only wizard in Britain who remembers enough to teach you," Marik stated.

An unwelcome thought intruded and deflated Harry's gleeful good mood. "But…I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school."

Marik smiled wickedly. This was one bit of news he was delighted to deliver.

"In a few days all Hogwarts students will be receiving notices from the Ministry telling them they can use magic."

Harry grinned. "When'll we start?"

"Your magical training will begin the day after tomorrow. As I have already stated, you will be staying with me for the remaining duration of the summer, or at least until I am satisfied with your level of training. If your training is complete before the end of the summer, then we will see what we can do about relocating you to someplace more suitable to your liking that does not include returning to your relatives. I will floo Tom at The Leaky Cauldron and tell him to have your things brought over."

Harry accepted this with a nod; despite Marik's assumption that he wouldn't argue about staying with him, the green eyed teen found that he didn't mind for some reason. **Maybe it's because he's actually answering questions and telling you things instead of telling you he will when you're ready…or when you're old enough…**

"Why can't we start my training tomorrow?"

"Because tomorrow I need you to go to Gringotts so we can make you a family tapestry."

"A family tapestry?" Harry frowned. "Why would we need to make one of those?"

"I need to know your full lineage and any attendant gifts that might include before I can train you properly," Marik explained patiently. He could see now that the teen's suspicious nature would take a while longer to relax around him. "They may affect your power, or even what you are able to do with it. I don't want to push you to do something you are blocked from doing or ignore something you need to learn to control."

Harry studied the older wizard for a long moment and then nodded his acceptance followed by a huge yawn.

"Could you please show me where I'll be sleeping?"

Marik nodded and motioned for Harry to follow. He led Harry into the back, and, looking around, Harry was amazed by the size of the space.

"This place is a lot bigger than I would have thought," Harry blurted out, his tiredness over riding his manners.

Marik looked at Harry as if to say, "You poor, deprived child," but shook his head instead and sighed.

"Even Wand makers deserve some luxury in their lives. Magic makes these things possible."

A blushing Harry finally entered his room.

"Thanks, Marik…"

Mostly unsurprised to find Hedwig on the perch by the window, and stopping only to take off his shoes, he fell into the large, comfortable looking bed and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.


End file.
